The Old Bait and Switch

The marquee-highlighted cover of the fall 2008 issue of The Antioch Review drew me eagerly to its headline of "Celebrity Deaths: Stardom, Stardim." Isn't that what celebrity does? Stokes your curiosity on the surface even if not fully engaged on the deeper level? To be honest, though, it felt a bit like "bait-and-switch" with very little of the issue having anything to do with the cover theme.

Daniel Harris's essay "Celebrity Deaths"obviously does center on the issue's theme and does a good job at laying out some of the strange phenomena related to modern celebrity creation and worship. He contends that the over-the-top eulogizing for dead celebs that goes on in online chatrooms, forums, and blogs is clearly not grief. "Each poster takes his turn at the microphone, performing a kind of macabre karaoke in which he attempts to outdo competitors in his impression of heart-broken solemnity." Harris also notes that because we have so little real contact with celebrities, public mourning gives people a faux feeling of intimacy. While there is a common belief that celebrities who burn out early have troubled souls that need to be abated by heavy drinking and drugging, Harris instead purports that the link is rather one of fun and merrymaking as they dance unwittingly towards death by simply enjoying the perks of their fame.

The three other pieces supposedly dealing with the issue's theme discuss the effects of sharing digital media, James Wood's dislike of magical realism in literature, and the life of the lesser-known painter Thomas Eakins. All three pieces have their points to make but, as I said, I just didn't feel they gelled into a consistent issue theme.

The memoir section of the issue highlights two pieces about family trauma. Carolyn Osborn's "The War Victim" recounts the heartbreaking story of her mother's lengthy institutionalization due to schizophrenia. Just after her ninth birthday, Osborn and her brother are told that their mother took ill and was taken to the hospital. Twenty years later she is finally told the truth that her mother attempted to hang herself in the basement and was sent off to a mental institution. Though truth and emotions might be kept under wraps in this extended Southern clan, Osborn and her brother are always cared for by the family and there is a coating of protective love provided in the silences. Osborn's mother is institutionalized for the rest of her life--dying at the age of seventy-two--and it takes several decades for Osborn to piece together the puzzle of her mother's illness and family reactions. It took a second reading for me to wring out the emotions of the writer and the other key players; they slip by at first glance. Her lifetime of family secrets takes its toll on the retelling.

The second memoir piece, by poet Eric Trethewey, is entitled"Connections and Correspondences," but I'm not sure what he is connecting or corresponding about. The self-important voice in the piece is such a turn-off, despite the compelling and wrenching tale of violence and loss it attempts to share. The piece centers on the murder of his ex-wife by her obsessive second ex-husband, but the piece suffers from Trethewey's tendency to name drop and to supply unnecessary details to elevate his perspective in the situation. His own daughter was, of course, greatly affected by the brutal murder of her mother, but her half-brother, Joey, witnessed the death and we don't even learn what has happened to him. It's wonderful to know that his daughter is now a Pulitzer Prize-winning poet, but what happened to Joey?

The poetry section has ten authors represented, several to take note of. Frederick Smock's "Folly Beach" takes you to the magical seaside of a teen boy inspired to sing in the waves alongside the dolphins, not yet aware of an impending loss. "Pro Vita" by Dana Roeser explores the deep connections of scent and memory as she visits her father in a nursing home and implores, "May you never be lonely." And memorable is the 8-line "Violets in a Pewter Vase" by F.D. Reeve.

Having a political piece in the middle of the issue was quite a pleasant surprise. "Obama and the Middle East," by Gregory Orfalea gives a detailed history of then Senator Obama's visits to the Middle East and all of his significant statements and policy stances. He also analyzes some of the developments between the African American, Jewish and Arab communities. Now that President Obama is in office and has set a rapid pace for making changes on a multitude of fronts, including an Israeli-Palestinian peace initiative, it will be interesting to see if any of Orfalea's predictions come true.

Of the five short stories in the fiction section, John Bullock's "Taller" stands out for painting a rich tale of a grieving widow of a rural police officer. The third anniversary of his loss is the next day, but knowing her husband's secret--he'd lost his nerve to do his duty--gives Susan an uneasiness when he is publicly touted as a hero. Her friend Agnes calls on Susan, knowing the anniversary may still be a tender time for her, but is caught off guard when Susan dresses up in her husband's police uniform. Bullock has an understated touch for dialogue and emotional detail that makes the situation ring true.

Jimmy Lord has lived through sixty-nine Septembers and is found repairing a roof on September 11th beside a hive of wasps in Jerry McGahan's "Benediction." On the anniversary of such a violent day, Jimmy finds it hard to linger on the memory of the attacks and the subsequent wars and he queries, "Is the disease of forgetting as awful as the one of remembering, of recounting?" His daughter is worried about Jimmy's loss of memory, most recently because he forgot to put oil back into her car when he had done her oil change. Still living alone, Jimmy wants to stay as independent as he can but knows that his mind is changing. "Too mindless to go on living amounts to the same as too mindless to jump. That's the snag that fills nursing homes." Jimmy's determination to repair the roof despite the raging wasps suggests he may be taunting the swarm to push him over the edge and put him out of his slow decline, but they withhold their sting.Alongside the smattering of reviews in the Et Cetera section is a literature review of the Congolese poet Tchicaya U Tam'si who was unknown to me, and I suspect to many others. John Taylor's comparison of Tchicaya to Rimbaud will surely inspire many to go in search of more about this French-writing African poet.